I'll be Home for Christmas
by Phantasmarose
Summary: MODERN DAY. Christine is a foreign student, and her visa is running out. Erik is her reclusive neighbor, who is willing to help. Will she let him? Fluffy. EC. Due to reader request, the story will be continued later on in 2007. Please Read and Review.
1. Chapter 1

**I'll be Home for Christmas ©**

**by Phantasmarose  
**

Disclaimer: I lay no claim to any of the original POTO characters such as Erik, and Christine. These belong to Leroux. The settings outside Opera House and all original characters to this story belong to me.

The title for this story is taken from the song I'll be home for Christmas by James Gannon (lyrics) and Walter Kent (music) copyrighted in 1943. It's first recording was by Bing Crosby that same year. Lyrics from the song are used throughout the story.

**A/N: The beta for this story is Busanda. She is also the beta for my other story "Black Despair." Thank you as always. **

**Merry Christmas to all my readers. I hope you enjoy this modern short story. It will only run during the Christmas season. If you find a few minutes please leave a review. Thank you. **

Chapter 1

**December 22nd**

_I'll be home for Christmas_

_you can count on me. _

_I'll be home for Christmas_

_if only in my dreams._(+)

Erik heard the melody on the radio as he drove through the snow. He was going home for Christmas. "Home," he said aloud as he approached the indoor garage. _I guess any place I live in is home._ Christmas was not his favorite season. Though, he did like winter for the comfort it provided him due to the mask. Everywhere, the images of happy families taunted him—mother and apple pie. Funny, how the images always had a mother smiling down on a child with a frostbitten nose. He had never seen an image with a scowling mother, screaming down on her noseless deformed child—the image he recalled from his childhood. He swerved and had to fight for control. Would anyone, except the paramedics, really care if he was found wrapped around a tree, like a Christmas present? _Driving rule number one, no thoughts of Mother while driving._ Even though she had been dead for the better part of his 50 years, she still managed to disturb him.

His only friend as a child had been Raoul's father, Joe. A kid whose parents paid for him to go to the school to which Erik had a scholarship. Why Joe had befriended him, Erik had no idea. He was very good looking, popular with both boys and girls, and huge. Joe had walked by his side, staring down the bullies that always threatened Erik. They had been best friends since then.

Erik always drove with his mask on, although he knew it cut down on his visibility. He had nearly created an accident more than once because of busybody onlookers. Better they think him eccentric than have the guilt of their deaths on his conscience. He wanted nothing to do with death or war. He was through with all that. Though considered a hero by the winning side, others still trembled at the thought of his interrogation methods.

Shaking his head clear of those thoughts, he opened the door to his apartment. He could have afforded to live in a more luxurious area, but he loved the privacy the semi-country setting afforded him, while still being close enough to the city and his school.

"Almost time to put in that turkey, huh?" he heard his neighbor ask.

"Yes, it is, Mrs. Williams. Will you be going away again this Christmas?"

"My children have asked me to go to them, but I hate to travel during the holidays."

"If you don't, you know I always make a large bird."

"We'll see."

She always pretended her kids would be furious with her because she was not going to their place.

"I'll be disappointed if I don't eat a piece of your pie this Christmas."

"Maybe I'll make one and have it for you."

They had shared the past dozen Christmas dinners together. He knew what it felt like to be alone at this time of the year.

Upon entering his apartment, he opened the window to let in fresh air.

"My mom is all in my business. I'll be like gone, then she has to ask me a favor."

"Imagine being homeless in Hawaii, you can live on the beach."

"When I have my own apartment, that's where I'm gonna get it. I love the sun."

Erik rolled his eyes at the conversation floating in. A neighbor's daughter and her friend were standing under his window.

"Are you getting the CD?"

"My mom asked my Dad. It's my birthday, my money."

"You shouldn't have to ask, for crissake…"

"If I could just go and use my money. Ha, that would be so weird."

"Yeah, I know, my mom is the same way. She borrows from me! Then, if I don't want to give it up, she starts to talk about her surgery."

"Like that guy that lives in there with the mask."

"Yeah, what's up with that?"

He slammed the window closed. Never mind circulating air.

He picked up two Christmas cards waiting for him under the door. One was from Raoul and one from Yasser. He walked through and turned up the thermostat, it seemed to make up for the cold, lonely feeling in the apartment.

He heard a soft knock on the door. He wasn't expecting anyone, so, if it was a peddler, they could wait. He turned down the stew that was heating on the stove. The knock came again.

He threw the door open. "Well?" his irritation clearly coming through. As soon as he saw her, he was sorry for his tone. She stood on his doorstep, looking up at him, her eyes wide and her face flushed.

"I…I…do you have…" She had such a delightful accent.

An angel! Everyday, she had been coming over to borrow something—the highlight of his evening. How could he have forgotten? The dark circles under her eyes were a little darker today.

Her cotton outfit was not appropriate for the season, even with the thick grey sweater she wore. She held it tight to her but did not look cold. His beautiful next-door neighbor had been coming over to borrow food items almost everyday. He had not seen her husband for weeks now. Did they have a child? He could not remember ever seeing a child. The husband had always looked sleezy, barely greeting anyone, slipping in and out of their apartment.

"Please forgive me, I had a very insistent seller just before you knocked."

"Oh, I just needed to borrow…"

"Please come in." He took her elbow and helped her across his threshold. _I touched her!_ He could not imagine what possessed him to touch her. Now that she was inside his home, his sudden bravado abandoned him, and he had no idea what to do.

"Have you eaten?" _Erik, what a stupid thing to ask. _

"Mmmm…no." He heard the hesitation in her voice.

"I just made a stew, and as usual I cooked too much. Won't you join me?" he asked softly, allowing his voice to beckon to her.

"It smells good, I…"

"Settled then, have a seat, I'll be right back." He left her sitting in his tiny dining area and rushed off to the kitchen before she had time to think about it and say no.

He walked into the kitchen and placed his back against the refrigerator. His knees felt as if they might give way. He should ask if her husband could join them, but he would not. Erik knew she belonged to another, but this moment was his. How was he going to eat when his stomach felt as if it had rocks in it. He, Erik, had a woman in his living room, waiting to have dinner with him! _What do I do now? Bring out the stew?_

He looked up, and there she was. _She's going to say she needs to leave._ He wasn't surprised that she would want to get away from him. It was a normal reaction.

"May I help you set the table?"

"Table?" _She does not want to leave_. How could he have forgotten about the table?

"Yes, there are plates and other things right here," he said, pointing to a cupboard.

She walked to where he pointed and began to gather two's of everything they would need before disappearing into the living room.

Relieved, he turned back to his dinner. He cut bread for them and stirred the cous-cous. _Beef stew! For the first time in my life, a woman accepts an offer to share a meal with me, and it has to be reheated beef stew!_

He served her a generous amount of food. She sat and began to eat her portion. He had never seen a woman eat like that. She was polite and delicate, but with surgical precision, she proceeded to cut and eliminate every morsel on her plate. He served her again, and with the same deliberate motions, she emptied that plate as well. His own plate was mostly untouched. He enjoyed watching her eat. She looked so satisfied at the end of the meal he felt as if he had given her something more intimate than a simple meal. They had exchanged pleasantries during the meal and realized that neither knew the other's name, which they quickly corrected. He found out she was a foreign student on scholarship. Several times, he wanted to inquire as to the whereabouts of her husband but held back, not wishing to hear her speak of him.

"Thank you. That was so delicious," she said, at the end of their meal.

"I have dessert." He needed to think of something to keep her there. He filled her wine glass again.

"I don't think I could eat another bite." She sipped her wine and yawned. "May I help you clean up?"

"I'll do that later." _She is getting ready to leave._

"Well…thank you, again…I…" She got up.

Too late. He couldn't think of any way to retain her. _Perhaps I should give her the leftovers…no!_

"It was my pleasure, Christine…tomorrow, I'm making a rack of lamb. Would you care to join me?"

"Oh!" He saw her eyes widen. "I wouldn't want to take advantage."

"I hate to eat alone. You would be doing me a favor. Do you think I could eat a whole rack by myself? I would hate to throw it out." He held his breath.

"You must not throw food out! I suppose it would be alright…"

He controlled the exhale. _Yes!_ He tried to sound calm. "Same time as today?"

-----------------------------------------------------------------------j

Christine lay in bed with a full stomach. For the first time in weeks she was really full. The last few days had been the worst. She had been borrowing food from her next-door neighbor. Her neighbor was a quiet man who wore a mask over his face. She had been both scared and surprised the first time she saw him, but he had always been polite. She never saw anyone come in to visit him, so it was probably not due to kinkiness. Most likely, it was for medical reasons.

She had not known what to do when she had run out of food. So, she turned to her strange neighbor and asked him for bread and milk. Today, she was going to ask him for sugar so she could make sugar water and moisten her bread. He had practically forced her to enter his home and eat with him. She had been living in that building for over three months with Brent.

She wasn't sure what to do anymore. Perhaps she should go back to Sweden before her visa expired. If she stayed beyond its expiration, she would be deported. Once she handed Brent the five-thousand dollars, he had changed and was gone within the week, promising to return with her papers. Gone were the sweet words, the soft phrases. He said he would return, and then she could get her green card. However, now she had no papers and could be deported. Still, she thought she was better off doing what Brent asked; she would not leave the building. Any day now, he would return with the papers for her as he had promised.

In the meantime, she had another meal secured for tomorrow. Her neighbor had been a gentleman in every way. He might really just want her company. She was ashamed, but she had to take every crumb he was willing to give.

-----------------------------------------oo

I'll be Home for Christmas ©  
by Phantasmarose  
aka Susana Martín  
New York City  
December 23, 2006

-------------------------------o

(+) I'll be home for Christmas© 1943 by J. Gannon and W. Kent.


	2. Chapter 2

**I'll be Home for Christmas ©**

**by Phantasmarose**

Disclaimer: I lay no claim to any of the original POTO characters such as Erik, and Christine. These belong to Leroux. The settings outside Opera House and all original characters to this story belong to me.

Title for story is taken from the song I'll be home for Christmas by James Gannon (lyrics) and Walter Kent (music) copyrighted in 1943. It's first recording was by Bing Crosby that same year. Lyrics from the song are used throughout the story.

**A/N: **The beta for this story is **Busanda**, She was working on this story this morning Christmas day!. **So, a very special thank you to her**. She is also the beta for my other story "Black Despair." Thank you as always.

Merry Christmas to all my readers and reviewers. I hope you enjoy this modern short story. It will only run during the Christmas season. If you find a few minutes please leave a review. Thank you

**Chapter 2**

December 23rd

It was 6:33, the same time when she had knocked on his door yesterday. If she did not come, he could not go across the hall for her. Erik paced back and forth, from the kitchen to the living room.

All day at work, he had been excited. This was monumental. He was going to have dinner with a woman. She had agreed to return to his home. What if she had changed her mind? What if her husband had returned? When he was younger, he had been stood up so many times he had given up. It was too painful. What woman wanted to be seen with a masked companion? This was different though. She was his neighbor, and they would remain in his apartment, so she would not be embarrassed to be seen with him. _If she comes_. The downside was that she was married. _It's just a meal. What harm can there be?_ By midday, he had been trying to convince himself that she could not possibly want to join him for dinner just so it would hurt less when the inevitable happened. On his way home, he had a major headache and wished he had not started the whole business. He stopped by the butcher's to get the lamb.

At 6:37, he heard a soft knock. _Calm down, Erik._ He made himself breathe slowly and opened the door. He greeted her and stepped aside so she could enter. He returned to the kitchen to stir the freshly-made mint jelly. He would not serve her the bottled green stuff from the supermarket.

She was wearing another faded dress and her grey sweater. Her eyes closed, and she seemed to swoon. He could swear she was smelling _his _food.

"It will be ready in a short while, make yourself comfortable."

"Do you celebrate Christmas?"

"In a way. I don't have family, so I suppose it's not the same," he answered sincerely.

"No it's not." She furrowed her brow a bit and continued, "I don't have family either. Since my father died, I really haven't celebrated the holidays again."

He had to ask. Erik took a long drink from his wine glass and swallowed in a gulp. "What about your husband? He doesn't celebrate?"

"You mean Brent? He's not my husband. I live with him…well, not that way." He saw her blush slightly. "He's a friend. I didn't have a place to stay when I finished in school, and he offered me his place while he…well, he helps people from my country. He knows about American laws."

Erik had to put his glass down. He had just riden a roller coaster—first, the exhilaration of learning she wasn't married; then, the plummet when he thought she was confessing that that man was her lover; followed by the uplifting revelation that he was a friend who was helping her. Erik felt exhausted and the evening was just beginning.

Her last words opened a chasm of suspicion in him. That guy knew about the law? Yasser knew more about American law than that guy could, and he was a professional gardener. _Something is wrong with this picture._

She ate well, but not like the day before. The desperation was gone.

After dinner, they sat on the sofa and talked. She was interested in his music school. She had come to America to study preschool education.

She looked around his living room. "You don't have Christmas decorations," she stated with disappointment.

"No, I usually don't celebrate except for cooking myself a nice meal."

"I could make some."

"Excuse me?"

"I could make you some decorations," she explained.

"How?" _He had to see this._

"I'll be right back." She dashed out the door. The moment she left, the room grew dark and gloomy. He felt a cold draft and closed a tiny gap in the window. He was glad that she wanted to do something for him. It was rare that anyone did. A few minutes passed, and his heart began to sink. What if she doesn't return? At least now, I have an excuse to go get her. _I'll give her two more minutes._

He checked his door to make sure it remained slightly open. In a moment, he heard a rattling of the door jamb, and she entered. It was incredible how the room automatically began to warm up in her presence. She came in with a tiny square box and sat in a corner. He went into the kitchen and checked on his cake. He had put it in late so she would have to stay longer. When he returned to the living room, a small paper menagerie sat on his coffee table. She was still busy making more. Her small hands flew as she folded and turned, flattened, and folded yet again. She had a swan in her hand. She got up and began to place the small paper animals on a dying ficus tree in the living room.

"I really should water that thing more often," he murmured in embarrassment. The plant looked completely neglected.

By the time she was done, the tree was no longer a dying ficus but looked like a Christmas tree, his first. He stood staring at it in disbelief.

"If you don't like it, I can take them off. Perhaps, it was too presumptuous of me." Her cheeks were turning rosy.

"No, no, please, I love it. I…I am amazed at the way you transformed an ugly, dying tree."

"You do like it then?"

"Absolutely. Can you make a star for the top?"

She smiled and taking out several pieces of paper went on to combine them and create a large, five-pointed star. When it was done she handed it to him. He placed the star on top of the tree. _This is something a husband does. Stop these thoughts, Erik. Just stop!_

They had their dinner and enjoyed a lively conversation. Before she left, they had a piece of cake and coffee. Although his heart felt like it was coming out of his mouth and about to choke him, he casually invited her over next evening for a dinner of duck á l'orange. Just as casually, she accepted.

She looked fragile and from the look in her eyes when he mentioned food, he guessed that his dinners were the only substantial meal she was getting all day. He could easily have provided her with bread, milk, and eggs or given her money, if she'd accept it, to buy a few supplies. He figured she would remain in her apartment without food waiting for him. It made him feel horrible, but he could not bring himself to risk her not returning. _If she had food at home, she might never see me again._ For some reason, this Brent had left her alone in that apartment to starve. He hated the man for doing that to her but sent him blessings for giving him this opportunity with the girl.

----------------------------------------------j

Again, she had eaten with her masked neighbor, Erik. He had turned out to be the owner of a well-known music school, and he was a most marvelous cook. She had never seen him without the mask and still wondered why he wore it. It was so odd to see someone with a mask that covered the entire face, but the mouth. The only people she knew that covered their entire faces with masks were burn victims, but those masks looked different. She would not ask him why he wore it for fear of hurting his feelings. Now that she was eating dinner at his house, she didn't dare borrow for her other meals as well. She would just do with crumbs softened in cold water until the night's feast. She felt she was using him, but she had no choice.

Christine was just coming to the realization that Brent had cheated her. He had run away with her money. There was no permanent residency and no green card coming. She looked at her passport and other papers, her student visa would expire on the third of January. Time was running out, she had ten days left. She would have to leave the country or face deportation. At least, she had her return ticket. Brent had asked her for that, but she had not turned it over to him. All her dreams of staying in America and opening up her own preschool were now gone. Brent had taken all the money her father had saved so she could come over. She could never save that much money to return again. Thanks to Erik, she would not starve during her last days in America. There had to be some way to show him her gratitude.


	3. Chapter 3

**I'll be Home for Christmas ©**

**by Phantasmarose**

Disclaimer: I lay no claim to any of the original POTO characters such as Erik, and Christine. These belong to Leroux. The settings outside Opera House and all original characters to this story belong to me.

Title for story is taken from the song I'll be Home for Christmas by James Gannon (lyrics) and Walter Kent (music) copyrighted in 1943. It's first recording was by Bing Crosby that same year. Lyrics from the song are used throughout the story.

**A/N: **The beta for this story is **Busanda.** A big **thank you **to her. She is also the beta for my other story "Black Despair."

To all my readers and reviewers: I hope you enjoy this modern short story. It will only run during the Christmas season. If you find a few minutes, please leave a review. Thank you

**Chapter 3**

December 24th

"I see you're having company again. I'm glad she's keeping company with you now; I never liked that big fellow. Looked like he thought too much of himself," Mrs. Williams said, cracking her door behind Erik.

"I am not 'keeping company' with Christine. She's just a neighbor coming over for dinner," he snapped at her.

She gave him a wizened smirk. "Christine, huh?" she said, then inched her door closed without another word. He thoroughly enjoyed their exchange. _He was keeping company!_

Christine came to his door wearing yet another faded, cheap dress, at least it was wool but this time she did not cover it with her gray sweater so that its worn state was even more evident. He saw Mrs. Williams' door crack open. _Nosy, old biddy!_ A pale blue eye peered at him.

He let Christine in and stared right into the old woman's eye through the crack frowning.

"You're cold," he stated. She would not be allowed to be uncomfortable in his presence. He went to his room and got her a sweater from his drawer. He handed it to her, and she donned the garment. They stood looking at it. The length of the sweater was mid-thigh and the sleeves covered her fingertips and then some. They laughed until they were breathless. Erik rolled up the sleeves for her. He had never seen any woman look more adorable or sexy for that matter. _This is impossible so don't torture yourself._

He served her from the breast of the duck. Her eyes glistened as she eyed the food. He felt guilty for keeping food from her during the day. It would be so easy to feed her all day, everyday. If only she would have every meal with him and spend her evenings by his side.

"Tomorrow is Christmas, so if you come over early enough, I'll make us breakfast."

"All right, I will. You have been very kind in having me over so often. I should explain my situation."

"There's no need, Christine. You are always welcome here."

"But, I want you to know…I…I'm just waiting for Brent to return with my immigration papers so I can stay here legally. My student visa expired 51 days ago, and they only allow me 60 days to stay. Then I must leave the country or make other arrangements. Brent understands about all that, and he went to make the arrangements for me. He has contacts you know." Erik rolled his eyes discreetly. "He is getting me my green card. So, when I can start working, I will…" She was going to say repay, but that might offend him. "I will make a nice dinner for you, something Sweddish!"

"All right, we'll do that." Erik liked the fact that she was thinking of seeing him again after she had money and was squared away. _It will probably be just once, and then she'll go on with her life._

It concerned him that she depended on this Brent to be able to stay. "How many days do you have left before you have to leave? Unless you can make other arrangements."

"As of today? Nine!" Her lip curled awkwardly, not sure whether to make a smile or an unhappy face.

His heart dropped to his stomach. _Nine days only! Nine! _ "Christine, by the way, did you give this Brent any money?"

"He said he needed money to get those papers. Like an insurance for the government that I am not a pauper. I had to give it to him." Her watery eyes told him she already knew the answer to the question she was about to ask him. "Did I do the right thing? He left over three weeks ago."

"How much did you give him?" As soon as the holidays were over he would find out the ins and outs of this business. The more he heard about Brent, the more he smelled a rat.

She shrugged and held his sweater closer to her. "My father's lifetime savings." Her lower lip trembled, and Erik wished he could calm it with his own. He licked his lips, and looked away. _She's so beautiful! How could she even consider an old gargoyle like me? Why am I thinking of her that way?_

-------------------------------------------------j

Erik spent the night melting soap bars until he had made a rather large soap block. He went to work on it. Using his memory only, by dawn he had made a bust of her. The statue was white and resembled fine marble. It was Christine down to her long eyelashes and soft wavy hair.

"Christine," he whispered to her image. He took off his mask in front of the bust and reveled in the fact that she did not scream or run away from him. He placed a light kiss on the chiseled lips.

The night before, she had unraveled her gray wool sweater and made it into neat balls of yarn. Her fingers knitted furiously through the night. A scarf began to grow out of the wool. It had to be done by morning. She fell asleep in his sweater. It smelled of Erik's masculine scent. She felt cared for. Christine woke up at seven and wondered if he was up. She cleaned up, wrapped her present as best she could, and headed over to Erik's apartment. She couldn't wait to see him wear the scarf she made for him.

---------------------------------------------------------------------j

December 25th

If it had been a regular day, he would not have noticed, but on Christmas day, everyone got up early. She was not coming! He was a fool. Why would she choose to spend Christmas with a deformed creature? She had to know that he did not wear the mask for amusement. She knew and was frightened, or worse, she felt disgusted by what she thought was under the mask. For all he knew, Brent might have returned—a Christmas miracle or curse.

Her light knocking made him scramble for the front door. He hit his thigh on the table as he rushed forward. "I hope I didn't wake you. I wasn't sure at what time you were expecting me."

She was still wearing his sweater! Her hair was loose around her face. She wore a dress with small flowers. It must have been her Sunday best because it actually looked in good condition.

She had a roughly-wrapped package in her hand, which she placed under the tree. After a while, he went to his room, brought out a few presents, and placed them under the now official Christmas tree.

He had made them pancakes topped with thawed blueberries. As soon as they finished breakfast, they settled on the sofa with mugs of fresh coffee. He had the radio on, and she sat back, looking totally relaxed. _She's comfortable around me . _Christmas carols came on and for the first time in years, he actually enjoyed them.

_Please have snow and mistletoe  
And presents under the tree._

The familiar tune washed over him like a balm. He began a low hum to the melody

"Erik?"

"Yes?"

"Did you already make dessert?"

"No, nothing fits in that oven with that size turkey."

"I want to show you how to make Swedish custard. Do you have eggs and flour?"

He went to the kitchen and pulled out everything they would need. _They were cooking together!_

She showed him how to mix the ingredients together. Finally, they poured the mixture into several small cups.

"We are good together," she said simply, smiling up at him.

He didn't dare follow the implications her statement had behind it. No, he would only get hurt if he did that. Her words probably meant something else in her country.

--------------------------------------------j

She took his hand in hers.

He had to close his eyes. _Why?_ "Christine…," his voice was unsure. She was holding his hand. Her flesh was soft and moist against his.

"This was a Christmas tradition in my family. We read each other's palms. In my country, the Gypsies can read your fortune."

"Are you Gypsy?"

She giggled, and he sighed at the sound.

"No, but I can try to read yours. May I?" She furrowed her brow in concentration.

_She looks adorable when she does that._

She closed her eyes and crossed his palm with hers. Erik sat enjoying her touches. "A friend from far will appear to change your life. You have to be braver than you have ever been to accept this change."

She opened her eyes then and shrugged. "Maybe later I'll have more."

A knock at the door startled them. She let go of his hand.

Yasser appeared, red–nosed, with a folding table under his arm. He did not say a word but went past Erik and stared at the ficus. He too placed his gift under the Christmas tree.

Turning to face Erik, he noticed the girl sitting on the sofa. She was shaking her head and mouthing "no" to Erik while her head motioned toward Yasser. He nodded to her in understanding.

A woman in Erik's apartment? Erik's friend looked confused. The man was short with a swarthy complexion. His dark eyes were as bright as Erik's light one's.

"Oh! Ah…I…," the Iranian tried to pull his thoughts together.

"Yasser, this is Christine, my neighbor," Erik said simply.

Yasser managed to nod and shake Christine's hand.

At two in the afternoon, Erik went across to knock on Mrs. Williams' door.

"You're late. Why haven't you come over?" he scolded her.

"I didn't think you'd want me seeing as you have a girl."

"I told you she's not my girl. Why, she's half my age easily." _How old was Christine? Probably not more than twenty…impossible._

"Oh, pooh! I'm eighty-nine, and I'll pinch your bottom if you're not careful!" The old woman was al ready dressed, and followed him out.

He felt his cheeks flush under the mask. "Mrs. Williams, please!" She was getting to be intolerable.

The old woman held on to his arm and walked into the apartment. She stood, eyeing Christine.

"Hi, Mrs. Williams." Christine waved.

"I knew it." She looked up at Erik. "She's even wearing your sweater. Of course she's your girl! I'm old, but I'm no fool."

Erik felt the heat under the mask spread . He knew his chin and neck were probably showing the signs of his distress. _Mrs. Williams will not see ninety!_

Christine giggled. His face felt a few degrees hotter.

"How old are you then, girl? Huh? Speak up."

"Honestly, Mrs. Williams…," Erik interrupted.

"It's all right, Erik. I'm twenty-four."

_Oh, please, don't let her continue._ How could he stop her without pulling out his weapon of choice!

"See, you're less than twice her age." Turning to Christine, she continued, "He was worried about that, but he is a fine man. Very good choice, my dear. Smart girl!"

It was Christine's turn to turn red now. Erik just stood where he was looking down and shuffling his feet.

Yasser decided to step in and help his friend. "Mrs. Williams, did you just have your hair done?"

"Why, yes, I was going to go to Colorado to my son's house, but I don't like to travel during the holidays."

"I'm the same way, I prefer staying close to old friends," Yasser told her. He looked over to Christine and Erik and noticed they were giving each other shy glances, their color slowly returning to normal. Erik made a dash for the kitchen. Christine went to a cupboard and began to take down dishes.

His guests were all sitting at the table when he came out with his perfectly roasted turkey. It looked just like the ones in the commercials. A loud knocking interrupted his entrance.

Erik was still holding his turkey.

"Christine, could you see who's at the door?"

He watched her open the door, and there stood Raoul, handsome, tall and rugged. Melting snow covered his shoulders.


	4. Chapter 4

**I'll be Home for Christmas ©**

**by Phantasmarose**

Disclaimer: I lay no claim to any of the original POTO characters such as Erik, and Christine. These belong to Leroux. The settings outside Opera House and all original characters to this story belong to me.

Title for story is taken from the song I'll be Home for Christmas by James Gannon (lyrics) and Walter Kent (music) copyrighted in 1943. It's first recording was by Bing Crosby that same year. Lyrics from the song are used throughout the story.

**A/N: **The beta for this story is **Busanda.** A big **thank you **to her. She is also the beta for my other story "Black Despair."

To all my readers and reviewers: I hope you enjoy this modern short story. It will only run during the Christmas season. If you find a few minutes, please leave a review. Thank you

**Chapter 4**

December 25th

Since his father's death, Raoul always came over for Christmas dinner. Without a family of his own, the boy and Erik had grown even closer as the years went by. _Raoul! How could I have forgotten?_

The moment Raoul walked in, Erik saw their eyes on each other. It was just for a moment, but he saw it and his heart sank.

His friend looked away. He introduced them, and they nodded to each other. _Why don't they just fall into each others arms? It will happen soon enough._ He put the turkey down and walked away to the kitchen trying not to see any more of the inevitable.

Raoul came through to the kitchen. He looked like a male model, with wavy blond hair and a striking pair of baby blue eyes. He was wearing a rough, nordic turtleneck, which showed off his tan. He was shorter than Erik, but huskier. He was also twenty years younger. _He's about right for her. How can she be interested in a faceless wonder like me? _

"So, you're keeping secrets from me?" Raoul jabbed him in the ribs in their usual greeting.

"Why do you say that?" he answered stiffly. Erik felt like punching him. three years ago, he had met Leila first. It didn't matter that he had never been interested in her or that she had definitely not been his type, Raoul had never asked. He had appeared and taken over. Just as quickly, he had dumped her and moved on. "She wasn't the right one," had been his excuse.

"The little number outside." He grinned at Erik, flashing his perfectly white teeth behind luscious lips.

"Watch it! She's not 'a number'." Erik pressed together his thin, leathery lips in contempt.

"Protective are you?" The younger man grinned.

"She's a neighbor." Erik shrugged.

"So, she's available?" Raoul eyed him carefully. "Are you sure?"

He felt Raoul's gaze on him. What could he answer?, _"Oh, yes, I could be her father, and I have designs on her? Oh, and, by the way, I could double as a Halloween decoration on her front porch."_

"Well, is she?"

"Ask her if she is. I'm not her keeper," Erik snarled.

"Are you sure? I don't want to step into your territory," Raoul insisted. He fluffed up his hair and then patted it down. He applied lip balm.

Erik rolled his eyes, and instinctively passed a hand over his own thinning pate. Even as a boy he'd never had hair like that. As a teenager he had sometimes worn a wig, but that had not gone well. He licked his lips and sighed.

Christine had already seen Raoul. It was over. Raoul might as well pull out a flag and claim the territory as his. He refused to answer him and brought out the refreshments.

She did not look up when they came out but kept her eyes low. _She's trying to control herself from jumping into his arms._

Throughout the meal, he kept his eyes on them. Raoul spoke to her, and she answered in monosyllables. He also caught her glancing at Raoul a few times. He kept his legs stretched out to impede any under the table messages. Erik thought the turkey was awful, as well as the mashed potatoes. Everyone else tore into it and had seconds; he pushed his food around with his fork.

"Erik, you're not eating," Christine whispered to him. She poured him more wine.

"I've lost my appetite," he said dryly. _She's so sweet, she would notice a leaf not growing!_

"Maybe later, you'll have a little more," she said to him.

_You won't be here later, so what do you care? You'll be out there gallivanting with your new, handsome boyfriend. _

Erik and Yasser cleaned up, leaving Christine, Raoul, and Mrs. Williams in the living room.

"I hope you told the blond god she's hands off," Yasser told him.

"Let it go, Yasser," Erik warned.

"Anyone can see a mile off you have feelings for her. Except the blind."

"It doesn't matter. Look at me."

"I see a man."

"A man with a face so horrendous he has to keep it under a mask. Do you think I like to wear this piece of…" He brought himself under control. "Look, I can't compete. He is everything I'm not. Besides, he's my best friend's son. Christ, I've known him since he was a boy."

"He still is in many ways , and can be an insensitive jerk. Besides, you may not have to." Yasser looked into the living room and winked slyly.

Erik rolled his eyes. "How's law school?"

"I'll be done with the courses by the end of the year and then passing the Bar. Meanwhile, I really enjoy doing landscaping."

-------------------------------------------o

Erik came out with cappuccinos for everyone. The Swedish custard could wait until later. That would be all he would have left of her that evening. Raoul was sitting on the chair scowling and wringing his hands., Christine satwas on the sofa, and Mrs. Williams was gone.

"Mrs. Williams went home to fetch her pie," Christine offered.

Raoul did not look happy. He took his cappuccino and studied the surface intently. His face, rarely serious, was flat.

Christine took hers and inched over so she sat closer to Erik on the sofa until. their knees touched. Yasser drank his standing up by the tree..

"I'll be back in a while. I'm going to take a walk in the park." Raoul went to the closet for his jacket.

_This is when they leave together. _Erik hardened his heart for the blow_. Can't keep what's not yours Erik!_

He was shocked when Christine stayed, sitting by his side, and did not offer to go with Raoul. She didn't even look up to see what Raoul was doing.

"Aren't you going for a walk too, Christine?"

"Are you coming?" she asked him.

"No, I…huh?" he sighed.

"We never had the custard. Did you forget?" She smiled sweetly at him.

Erik saw Raoul look at them strangely, shake his head, and walk out.

"I remember, but didn't he ask you to go for a walk?"

"Yes, but I'd rather be with you."

"With me?" For the first time in his life, his voice did not sound melodic. It sounded whinny. He cleared his throat.

"I enjoy your company."

"You looked so taken when he arrived that I assumed…" _No, no, no. I sound like a jealous school boy._

"Didn't you notice how much he looked like Brent? He made me nervous."

"Perhaps." _Now, I'm a petulant school boy—of nearly fifty-years old._

"So, which is it? Do we walk or eat?"

"I think I'll go see what's keeping Mrs. Williams," Yasser mumbled on his way out the door.

"Hey! We never opened the presents!" she cried.

She took her roughly-wrapped one and handed it to him. "Merry Christmas Erik."

He took his and handed it to her. "Merry Chritmas Christine."

They both unwrapped their presents carefully

"Christine! Your, your… but when?" _How many hours did it take her to do this? Did she sleep at all?_

"Your scarf. Do you like it?"

He put it on. It smelled of her feminine sweetness. His eyes closed for a moment. ErikHe kissed the back of her hand.

_That was her favorite, perhaps her only sweater. Why would she do that for me? Never has anyone been so thoughtful. How many hours did it take her to do this? No, tThis goes beyond gratitude for a few meals. Or does it?_ He fought to keep his eyes from spilling overdry.

She finished opening his present. "Oh, Erik. Oh, it is…Oh! You see me like that?" She sat looking at the soap sculpture. Her lips drawn in a smile.

He noticed her eyes were moist too. "It's beautiful, isn't it?"

"You make me look like an angel! I…I love it!"

He smiled at her. "You are."

"Thank you, Erik." She put down her statue and pressed her lips to his in a chaste kiss. Erik gasped and felt the heat rising under his mask again. _Did she just kiss me? She kissed my lips, and she can see what I am._

"You didn't eat. May I fix you a plate now?"

"A small one, if you don't mind. Followed by the custard."

"Would you mind if we left that until everyone else left?"

His mind became a whirldwind, tempered by the return of Yasser, Mrs. Williams, and eventually Raoul. They all had coffee and Mrs. William's pie while they exchanged gifts. Erik did not remove his scarf even though it itched a little. Christine's bust was admired by all. She blushed prettily through the compliments.

------------------------o

December 26th

"That was a mean turkey you cooked last night, Erik. But, you didn't give me any leftovers," the old woman scolded.

"You didn't leave me any pie," he countered.

"I gave you time alone with your girl!" the old woman replied.

"Mrs. Williams, I told you already, she's not my girl."

"Well, you better tell her 'cause that's what _she_ told your blond friend. Mark my words, she's smitten."

He gave an exasperated groan and turned away. _Silly old bat! Who the heck would me smitten by the likes of me? _However, he could not get the old woman's words out of his mind. Had Christine really told Raoul she was his girl?

He calmed himself down before knocking on her door. This was the first time he went to her. Suppose Brent had returned, and they came to the door holding on to each other, unable to break from their passionate kiss."

"Erik?"

"Ah, it's nothing. Christine, I have to go to the school to check on the thermostat. We have a new custodian, and I don't know if I can trust him yet."

"You're going to your school?" she sneezed. "Sorry."

"Bless you." He gave her his handkerchief.

She wiped her nose. "Thanks."

"I'll be back by mid afternoon…why is it so cold in here?" Why am I giving her an account of my whereabouts, as if we were something to each other?

She shrugged but did not answer him. "May I go with you?"

"You want to go with me?" Nervously, he pulled his scarf tighter around his neck.

"Sure. I'd love to see where you work."

She did not mind being seen with him! Was Mrs. Williams pulling his leg? That would be beyond cruelty. Probably, she just did not like blond men, and she had used him as an excuse to get out of a tricky situation.

She wore a thick woolen coat, which made his navy pea coat look thin by comparison. It was obviously made for the Swedish winter.

He parked in the nearly empty school lot and escorted her in. She held on to his arm during the tour. They went from floor to floor. He showed her the classrooms, the auditorium, and his workroom. She eyed the instruments hanging on the wall or lying in their cases. She hung on his every word. He had never enjoyed being in his school so much. The custodian and his men watched him. His heart accelerated when he introduced her. Mr. Bonneville came in with a beautiful woman; they would tell everyone._ By the end of the week, this visit will be a legend. _The news would run through the school like wildfire when they reopened.

"I'm a little hungry. Can we get a snack?"

"I'm sorry, I didn't even ask if you had breakfast." He felt guilty because, of course, she did not have breakfast. _She has nothing to eat at home, thanks to your selfishness_. In a flash, it came to him. He recalled this morning, the cold and darkness in her apartment. _The sneeze! She has no electricity or heat! Erik you idiot! She could get sick in there. _That's why she wanted to come out with you. She was freezing at home! "Let's get back, and I'll fix you a meal. I'm sorry."

-------------------------------------------------o

They picked up a few groceries along the way and reentered their building. As they stepped onto their floor, Erik called out to the cracked door, "Good afternoon, Mrs. Williams."

The old woman opened the door fully and answered, "I see you both are having an even better one."

"Would it be too much trouble to mind your own affairs?" he whispered toward his neighbor.

"Groceries, so, you're spending the night in with your girl. That's nice, dear…get to know each other better that way."

Erik narrowed his eyes to intimidate the old woman, but she walked past him, ignoring the furious look on his face. She deposited her small bag in the garbage chute and waltzed past him again. His fists balled at his sides.

Christine put her hand on his arm to get his attention."Let me get the rest of my wool, Erik. I think I could make you a hat with what's leftover. You lose a lot of body heat through your head you know." Christine stepped into her apartment, leaving Erik behind. He took advantage that Christine left to scratch his neck. He never wore pure wool because it irritated his delicate skin. _I'm not taking it off if I have to have a skin transplant! _He scratched again and caressed the scarf.

It was not lost on him that she wanted to take care of him. It made his heart swell.

_This is the first time that I've met such an angel that wants to care for one of God's fallen._

She opened the door and turned on her lights. "I'll be right back."

He stood in the doorway.It was cool in her apartment, but there was definitely heat coming through.

"It's cool in here," he commented. _So she does have heating and electricity. Yet, she chose to go out with me in public. _

"Yes, I put the heat to minimum."

"What?" _That sounded pathetic. Even my voice is gone!_

" I haven't been here that much lately remember?"

He nodded, and she turned off her light, following him to his apartment.

He made them turkey sandwiches and even took a plate of leftovers to Mrs. Williams, debating whether to lace it with arsenic.

They sat in the living room after dinner and shared a custard. He made believe he was reading a book while he enjoyed hearing the click clack of her needles the rest of the night. _She's making a hat for me._ What had she called it, a skull cap? _How apropo!_

--------------------------------------------------oo


	5. Chapter 5

**I'll be Home for Christmas ©**

**by Phantasmarose**

Disclaimer: I lay no claim to any of the original POTO characters such as Erik, and Christine. These belong to Leroux. The settings outside Opera House and all original characters to this story belong to me.

Title for story is taken from the song I'll be Home for Christmas by James Gannon (lyrics) and Walter Kent (music) copyrighted in 1943. It's first recording was by Bing Crosby that same year. Lyrics from the song are used throughout the story.

**A/N: **The beta for this story is **Busanda.** **Thank you**. She is also the beta for my other story "Black Despair."

To all my readers and reviewers: I hope you enjoy this modern short story. The story has one or two chapters to go. If you find a few minutes, please leave a review. Thank you

**Chapter 5**

December 27th

They drank their hot cocoa laced with brandy. Christine measured his head and began to knit. It made him nervous to have her so close to his face, in case his mask dislodged accidentally. She sat on the sofa, and he joined her. Christine readjusted herself so that their knees were touching. He opened his book and found that he could not concentrate long enough to read a single sentence. Thoughts from Christmas day and today flooded his mind. She had preferred his company to that of the young and handsome Raoul. The sound of her knitting needles relaxed him; he closed his eyes to its lullaby and leaned towards her, resting his head on her shoulder.

----------------------------------o

She liked his head on her shoulder. For the first time, she was able to look at him without seeming rude. She had never been partial to men's colognes, preferring a natural smell. His dark hair was sparse and intermingled with gray, which was not surprising since he was nearly fifty, though his body, voice, and manner were that of a man twenty-five years younger. It did not put her off that he was twice her age, on the contrary, she found it exciting to be courted by an older man. This was not the first man with whom she had shared time. In Sweden, she had had boyfriends her age, but none had made her feel as Erik did.

Since she began to ask him for food, she had made sure she looked her prettiest before knocking at his door. She could have gone to a different neighbor each day, and no one would have been the wiser. Although slightly apprehensive because of the mask, she had honed in on him. It wasn't planned, but Christine did not protest when he pulled her in for their first meal. She loved being in his home, in his company. He made her laugh and think when they spoke; his intellect went beyond that of any man she had ever known. She felt safe and cared for with him. Did he think of her as "his girl" as Mrs. Williams suggested? _A man like that would never take a simple Swedish girl like me seriously. If we were married, we would sit like this in the evenings. We would not have to do something special to enjoy each other's company._ She would enjoy this for as long as she could. She had less than a week left in America, and she was falling in love.

---------------------------------------------o

He startled awake and noticed he had been leaning on her shoulder. His book lay on the floor. _Dear God, what have I done!_ "I apologize, Christine. I don't know…I was so relaxed that…" She had a smile on her face. _Was I snoring?_

"It was no harm…I found it comforting."

_My head, my head with this face, so close to her. Comforting? She was probably paralyzed beyond action! _

"Look, I'm nearly done," she said. "Could you try it on… to make sure?"

He was happy for the distraction and pleased her by trying on the half-done hat.

"You look perfect…I mean it looks perfect on you." She blushed a little. He loved the look that came into her eyes when she blushed.

"Erik?" She started, "I want to know more about you before I leave…"

"Leave? For where?" He panicked. _How can she not wish to leave? I'm boring her to death. I have a living woman on my sofa and what do I do? I entertain her by turning into a drooling idiot on her shoulder! _

"I told you about my student visa and Brent. I know he's not coming back."

Why hadn't he paid more attention? She had said her visa would expire and she had nine days. When was that? He had enjoyed her company so much the last few days that everything negative was pushed to the back of his mind.

"I only have four days left on my visa," she said softly.

"What? But…but…"

"I kept hoping he would return." Her eyes bright, she turned from him.

The rest of the evening went in a whirl. His mind was in turmoil. _I can't lose her. She's not mine, but she comes to me, even if I have to keep her half-starved to ensure her return. Still, she does come._

He walked her to her apartment, and after she closed the door, he stood there unwilling to separate. When he saw her again there would be only three days left.

"She doesn't even know you're standing there, you foolish man."

As soon as he heard the voice, the spell was broken. "Mrs. Williams, I simply walked a lady back to her apartment. Do you mind?"

"Sure, and then you stand there sniffing her door, rutting."

"Good-night, Madame."

"Why don't you just marry her?"

"So, this is what happens when you get old. Nosiness begins to seep out of the pores and pour out of the mouth."

"Perhaps, I am nosy, but I have memories of more than forty good years with my husband. My kids may be asses, but my Bill was a good man. What will you have when you're old? Just marry the girl, you big fool, before love passes you by."

"Why would she marry me?"

"She needs to stay in the country." He scowled in annoyance, but he wasn't shocked that she knew. "Yes, I know about it. She'll marry you. But, it's up to you then to make it a marriage of love."

"As usual, you don't know what you're talking about." _Could I make her fall in love with me? Why would she love me if no one else has? It's a fool's errand._

"I didn't get to be eighty-nine 'cause I'm stupid. Marry the girl."

_Marry her? _

-----------------------------------------------------o

He lay in bed, tangled in his sheets, unable to sleep. The scarf lay next to him on the pillow. He would lose her in four days. Four days!

There was no choice; he would have to follow her. Leave the school. Did she even want him? How could she? If he gave her a job at the school, would she be able to stay?

By 3:00 a.m., he had come up with no answers, and more questions cropped up, all unanswered. The only thing he knew with certainty was that he would not, could not, let Christine go.

Yasser. Damn it. Yasser had been a lawyer before coming to the United States, and he was revalidating his degree now.

He picked up his phone and called. The groggy voice on the other end made him look at his watch. He winced.

"Yasser?"

"What's wrong? Are you all right, Erik? Erik?"

"Yes. No, I'm not. I'm in love, and I can't lose her," he blurted out. _What had he just said? Ridiculous to keep on denying it. I'm hopelessly in love with Christine._

"You're doing what with whom? I really don't want details of your prowess. I…"

"Shut up and listen! I'm not doing anything. I said I'm in love with Christine."

"You wake me up for that? Don't you believe in e-mail?"

"I need help."

"Love has destroyed your brain. You're nothing more than a sniveling idiot…"

"Will you help me?"

"If I do, will you let me go back to sleep?" Yasser asked in a warning tone. "What do you need?"

She's on a student visa, and it is running out or already run out or something. Help me. You're the one in the law business."

"My concentration is in corporate law, not immigration."

"So, I need a specialist for this. Don't you guys have a GP of law?"

"And, you're the freaking genius with all the awards? I'll look into it. I just don't have the answers you need at my fingertips."

"Yasser, I love her, and I'm desperate. What do I do? She has four days left, and then she's gone…and I'm dead."

"Marry her, you dolt. Marry the woman you love. And it's quite obvious she's not indifferent to you either. Get a couple of tickets to Vegas and marry her. When you get back, I'll have her papers drawn up ready for signatures. And, Erik, please let me get back to sleep, and _do not_ call back with another question."

When Erik heard the click of the phone, he sat back against his headboard. He remembered Mrs. William's words. The old bat was right, and she didn't need to go to law school.

_Marry her? _

-----------------------------------j

By seven that morning, he was knocking on Christine's door with a couple of mugs of coffee in his hands. She let him in. He noticed her mussed hair and sleepy face. _That's what she would look like if I woke up next to her. Perhaps, she would look a little worn, too._ He rolled his eyes and focused on Christine's face. He told her of his investigations and the solution offered by Yasser. He didn't mention his conversation with Mrs. Williams. They talked about it like it was a business affair.

"I wouldn't want to impose on your life," she offered.

"It's not an imposition. I have no one in my life." He didn't want to sound like a total loser, so he added, "…right now."

"But, in the future. If you should meet…"

"I am a confirmed bachelor… or was."

"Would you allow me to live with you or…?"

"I insist…to keep up appearances."

"I see."

"You would have no obligations to me." _Did she just frown? It must have been from relief._

"I accept, and…I owe you, Erik."

He kissed her forehead. "Get dressed and pack lightly. I have to go get us some tickets."

---------------------------------------------o

It was afternoon by the time they arrived at Las Vegas. Erik bought her several new outfits, including a white dress for the ceremony, as well as the rings at a store in the airport. She had been reluctant to buy the ceremony dress in white, but he insisted, and she gave in. He rented a car, and they went straight to one of the advertised chapels. The ceremony was a blur. He said "yes" to every question posed to him and heard her say the same.

The justice of the peace had insisted on Erik giving her a proper kiss and made him repeat it until he was satisfied. He told them the marriage was not valid until he did a proper job. Meanwhile, Erik was terrified that Christine would be disgusted by so much intimate contact with him, so he kept trying to kiss only the corner of her mouth. He was shaking from all his attempts. _She knows I'm not experienced._

She had responded correctly and kissed him back fully every time he kissed her. _What a dear girl. She does not wish to embarrass me_.

"What? Are you shy? Get on with it. It has to be proper, or it don't count!"

Erik tried to forget about his face and kissed Christine deeply. He stopped when he heard applause and laughter coming from the JP and his wife. The JP's wife apologized for her husband's sense of humor. Erik smiled weakly and had to take a seat.

"Sorry about that," he whispered to Christine.

"I didn't mind," she told him flippantly.

He tried to get them two rooms, but the hotel was booked through the holidays.

"I'm sorry, Christine, they only have a room with a double bed."

When they walked in, he felt grateful for the love seat in the corner. He was too old to sleep on the floor, and their circumstances demanded he do so.

They had a meal at the hotel, and after, he showed Christine around the casino. He placed a few coins in the one-armed bandits, and they continued making the rounds. She liked the blackjack tables and sat down. Erik wondered if he'd brought enough money with him. _Well, I have my credit cards. _He would not deny her this pleasure. An hour later, Christine was still sitting at the table, with a stack of chips next to her; Erik was by her side completely befuddled. He had no clue what she was doing, but she was winning big! She saw the look in his eyes and laughed. "My father was a street violinist. When he was invited to play at a fair, what do you think I did while he played his music? Sometimes, I made more money than he did." She winked at him. "Time to clean house."

The onlookers by the table stared at him. Low whispers surrounded him. He shifted from one foot to the other uncomfortably. He loosened his tie and the top button of his shirt. It did not bring him the fresh air he needed.

"I think it's Mick Jagger."

"No, no, it's either Ethan Hawke or Christian Bale. I saw him in that movie."

"No, I've seen this guy on TV, I just can't place him. He's from that show…you know."

"That mask really throws you."

"You know these Hollywood types! They don't want the press to know when they're doing the dirty. You can tell she's not his wife!"

A young girl rushed at him, grabbed for his hand, and shook it. He took his hand back and wiped it on his pant leg. She ran back to her group and started jumping up and down, waving her hand in the air. Erik's head was killing him; the pain engulfed his head and shoulders.

He bent over to whisper, "I promise to bring you back, my dear, but my head feels like it's about to explode." _Not to add leg cramps and a back spasm into the equation._

She nodded and immediately gathered her chips. Christine turned to face him.

"Oh, my God, Erik, you're sick!" she announced putting a hand to his jaw.

As soon as she said that, he felt the stickiness from the sweat under his mask and neck. "It's just a headache. I'll be fine," he insisted.

Erik turned and saw the lights and the crowd; some of the people continued pointing at him. He felt sweaty, cold, and confused. He had no idea where they were, or how he could find the door. His was breathing too fast, and he knew the results—hyperventilation. _No, no, not in front of her. I need to get out…get away from this._ As he took a step, cameras flashed in his face, bodies closed in, hands touched his shoulders and arms. Erik was unable to coordinate his next move. He began to tremble, and his vision glazed. _Christine!_ He wanted to run out, but all he could do was to grab her to him and close his eyes. He put his hand in his pocket and felt the security of a thin piece of rope. Don't breathe, don't think, Erik or they will smell your fear. You know what the enemy is capable of. Don't move. Never, never let the enemy see your fear. He felt her take his arm and pull him. His legs moved stiffly. She guided him through the crowd. If not for her, he would have never made it.

------------------------------------------o

She watched him as they waited for the elevator in the lobby. He stood still, arms at his sides, stiff, eyes half open, staring at the floor. Christine wrapped her arm around Erik's waist protectively. She could feel him trembling. She helped him take the few steps to the elevator. Once in their room, Christine led Erik to the bed and covered him with a quilt. She crawled in next to her new husband and tried to warm his cold hands. He needed her. She placed headphones on his ears and adjusted the volume. He had not said a word.

She was not completely surprised by his reaction. It was known throughout their building that he was a recluse. It was said that the man in the mask in 2-B did not have visitors and seldom went out himself. He owned the music school, and as he had told her he hired others to manage it. She felt awful. Her desire to revive her old hobby had put him in jeopardy. This man had just given up his freedom in order to help her, and she had repaid him by making a spectacle of herself and drawing unwanted attention to him. _On top of not admitting to him that I'm not a virgin._ Her eyes watered when she thought of his disappointment. Even if they never made love, a man like him would want to have a pure woman as his bride. She felt deceitful.

She had recognized that he was in trouble when the crowd milled around them. He had looked like a wild animal caught in a snare. His head was wildly gyrating, trying to find an exit. He held on to her hand as he searched for a way out for them. A few curious hands flew out to touch him. Then, he had grabbed her tightly to him, almost uncomfortably, and gone very still, freezing in place. When she noticed his eyes, they were closed, and she knew she had to help him. She had gone into action then and pushed them past the crowd, one hand flailing in front of her, parting a path for them. It worried her that he still had not responded, but the trembling had subsided, and he felt warmer to her touch. She had just fallen asleep on his shoulder with her arm around his waist when she heard his familiar voice. "I am so sorry, Christine. I don't know what happened. I am so, so, sorry."

"Erik, are you feeling better?"

"Yes, I suppose, after embarrassing you."

"I was not embarrassed. I was concerned for you."

"I'm not used to…crowds…and the light…I guess I panicked. I don't recall."

"So long as you are better, let's just go back to sleep."

"You don't mind being next to me…like this?"

"I haven't minded for the past three hours and twenty-three minutes."

"Christine? Do you have aspirin? How do you listen to this?" He removed the headphones, grimacing.

She shook her head and giggled. "I'll call room service."

------------------------------------------o

She had room service bring tea and aspirin. After their tea, Christine sat up against the headboard, put his head on her lap, and massaged his temples. Never, never had he felt this good. Her touch was light and warm. His breathing evened, and the headache began to dissipate. His embarrassment dwelled in his heart. He lied when he said he did not recall what happened. He remembered every painful, humiliating moment. He recalled slowly freezing up and being unable to move or protect her. Damn the war! She had saved him from making an even bigger fool of himself. _What does she think of me now?_

"Do you get these headaches often, Erik?"

"Only when I'm very tense. Sorry, I'm not used to being around so many people. I made a spectacle of myself." _Returning to Sweden has to be better than being married to a fool like me. Any moment now, she will ask me to annul the marriage._

"No, I should have noticed you were uncomfortable. I was selfish," she said sadly.

"You were only having fun, my little angel." She had seen him at his worst, excepting the mask, and still wanted to be around him. _I have to check her for wings!_

Christine continued to massage his temples, fluttering her hands down to the muscles alongside his neck. He never wanted her to stop. Erik was almost asleep when he felt her lips on his. His eyes shot open.

"Did I say thank you?" she asked him. _Had he dreamt that? Am I so far gone? It felt so real. Was her Christmas kiss replaying in his head?_

He tried to speak, but her fingers closed his mouth. Her lips replaced them.

"Thank you!" He did not return the kiss but lay there shocked. _She just kissed me again. Me!_

When she turned over to sleep, he was certain that she could hear his heartbeat in the quiet of the room. _Just great, well, one ache's gone!_ He shifted uncomfortably under the sheets.

----------------------------------oo


	6. Chapter 6

**I'll be Home for Christmas ©**

**by Phantasmarose**

Disclaimer: I lay no claim to any of the original POTO characters such as Erik, and Christine. These belong to Leroux. The settings outside Opera House and all original characters to this story belong to me.

Title for story is taken from the song I'll be Home for Christmas by James Gannon (lyrics) and Walter Kent (music) copyrighted in 1943. It's first recording was by Bing Crosby that same year. Lyrics from the song are used throughout the story.

**A/N:** The beta for this story is Busanda. Thank you for all your effort. She is also the beta for my other story "Black Despair."

To all my readers and reviewers: I hope you enjoy this modern short story. The story has one chapter to go. If you find a few minutes, please leave a review. Thank you

I have come to love writing these characters. Their noisy neighbor is one of my favorites. Although I must tend to my main story now if you would like for me to continue this story after I am done with Black Despair let me know in your reviews.

**Chapter 6**

December 28th

Before they left for the airport, they strolled through the lobby. Christine slid her hand into his, and Erik curled his fingers around it. She wore one of the dresses he had bought for her. It was made of denim with a short skirt. He was glad to be there escorting her, keeping away competitors. Possessively, his eyes panned the area through the mask's eyeholes.

"Erik, are you looking for someone?"

"Not really, I was just…admiring the décor."

"Oh."

An older couple stopped them in the middle of their stroll. The woman reminded him uncomfortably of Mrs. Williams. _Even here!_

"Newlyweds, isn't that lovely, John? Remember when we got married?" she said, turning to him as he nodded. "We were married right here in Vegas." The old man nodded again. He had obviously learned that keeping quiet was the safest bet. We're celebrating our 65th anniversary. This is our first time back since then. The day we got married, an old couple gave us this coin. I think it's time, don't you think, John?" John nodded again. "May your marriage be as happy as ours and last as long." The old woman kissed Christine and made Erik bend down for a kiss. She took their hands and placed the old coin there. The elderly couple walked away, leaving them slightly stunned.

Christine looked to the couple disappearing in the distance. "Sixty-five years together!" She looked sideways at Erik and put the coin away. He wasn't sure why her look made the heat rise behind his mask. He placed her arm in his, and they continued their stroll.

-------------------------------------------------o

Yasser was true to his word, as soon as they were back, the papers were ready, and they went downtown together to file them. They had two days left before she had to leave. The immigration officer was not pleased and made notes on the side of their application.

The clerk explained the situation to them. They would likely be called in for an interview because of the closeness of the marriage to her departure date. Eventually, it would be up to them to prove that their marriage was made in "good faith," otherwise, she would be deported, and he could end up in jail. They would be sent a certified letter with instructions.

"To put this in plain English," the immigration officer said, looking to Christine, "we would not look favorably on your case if you suddenly fell out of love and had an uncontrolled need to divorce. For your sakes, I hope your 'love' lasts." _Yasser!_

-------------------------------------o

When they returned to his apartment, she went about cheerily preparing them dinner. She said she was still concerned about him and insisted he sit and relax while she prepared them a meal. Erik enjoyed having her putter around in the kitchen. _I feel like a real husband now. I can't wait till a pipe brakes. On the other hand, I know nothing about fixing pipes, so perhaps my piano could go out of tune. _ Erik knew he could impress her with his ability to tune a piano. He put their coin inside a frame and hung that up in the living room.

The longer he sat doing nothing, the more down he felt. He had succeeded in stopping her deportation, but he had now ruined her life. They would have to remain married for a very long time. _What if she grows to hate me? What if she sees my face?_ Why was she humming so happily in the kitchen? _Is she trying to distract herself from this disaster?_

"Dinner is ready, Monsieur Bonneville."

"Christine, about this afternoon…I'm sorry. I meant to help you so you would not be deported, and I've ended up tying you to me for what may seem an eternity."

"I understood every word said this afternoon. I am not unhappy in the least."

_She is the most gracious, kindest human being to grace this planet—to say nothing of her acting ability. She actually looks pleased! I will give her everything she desires and make the time bearable. _

They sat down to their meal. She served him, and he ate every morsel of the dinner she made for them. He served them another glass of wine. He noticed her brow furrowing.

"Erik, has that happened before? What happened in Las Vegas?"

_Whatever happened to "what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas?" Why is she bringing this up?_ "Yes, not often," he offered quickly. "It has to do with past experiences that affected me more than I care to admit to myself." _Now she knows, for a fact, the total loser who gave her his name._

"Then, we have to avoid crowds and flashing cameras."

"That's it?" _The solution to problems was never that simple._

"I guess so. I can't fix it. So, we avoid the trigger."

"You can accept that you are married to a man that quakes if more than a dozen people are gathered?"

"You are my best friend, and husband. Why would that matter?"

Erik had not thought of that. Even in the short amount of time they had known each other, above all else, they had become friends.

A knock at the door roused him. She was in the kitchen, and he went to answer it.

As he opened the door, Raoul charged past him into the apartment and threw himself into a chair. "I'm still furious with you, Erik. Why would you purposely set me up to be humiliated in front of that old biddy? Do you know what she called me?"

"Good evening, Raoul. Who called you what and why? What are you doing here?" _I do not need her to see Raoul again, just in case she changes her mind about blonds._

"That old biddy across from you, called me a "wedge." Do you think I would do that to you? Why, why, you held me as a baby."

Erik nodded.

"You fed me."

Erik smiled at Raoul.

"You cleaned my…"

Erik closed his eyes tightly against the developing mental image. "Urgh! I did no such thing. Ever!"

"You would have, if I'd needed it."

"Perhaps, and…let's leave it at that."

"You really didn't know she had feelings for you? Well, your little girl cut me down to the quick. She…"

"She's my wife, Raoul."

"What?"

"We got married."

"You did set me up then!"

"We got married so she wouldn't be deported. Why are you looking at me like that?"

As if on cue, Christine emerged from the kitchen. She greeted Raoul by throwing her arms around him and kissing his cheek. _No, no! She does like him. What am I going to do? Good thing I bought that plot years ago. I will be using it soon and perhaps take someone with me!_

"When?"

"What?"

Christine turned around and looked straight at Erik. She walked back to him and drew her arm through his, resting her head on his shoulder. _Did she just change her mind? She prefers me? _His sanity would be severely tested during this marriage. His arm went around her waist involuntarily.

"What are we talking about? Your wedding! When did you get married?"

"Yesterday." _Why didn't Raoul gloat and hold on to her when she hugged him?_

"Heck, I guess congratulations are in order. You bested me, buddy!" His friend embraced him in a bear hug and kissed Christine's cheek lightly. Erik didn't like it but could not fault Raoul.

"You chose the better man!"

"You were in the running?" she asked sweetly.

Raoul turned red.

Erik could barely fit in his skin. Even though it meant nothing, he loved her answer.

-----------------------------------o

Christine heard Erik saying to his friend that they had gotten married just so she would not be deported. Could it be true that he did not care at all and was just a kind man? She had gone up to Raoul and hugged him, while depositing a dry peck on his cheek. She made sure to leave a distance between them as she hugged him so he would not get any ideas. She had then turned around to see the most beautiful thing. Erik's eyes were flashing in anger, jealousy, and something else. His thin lips were drawn over his teeth. She also saw his fists clench at his sides. It more than satisfied her; it was a delightful sight to see him so distressed. He sealed her happiness by putting his arm around her waist and drawing her tightly to him.

Just as Raoul was about to leave, a white head poked around the door.

"Congratulations!"

She heard Erik groan. "How did you find out?"

"You are loud, you leave your door open, and it was inevitable. Go get some nice glasses, Erik. I bet you haven't toasted yet. I have the real thing, champagne!"

Erik brought out glasses. Christine could tell her husband was embarrassed because his jaw and neck got red after each toast.

She liked Mrs. William's toast best.

"Here's to a bunch of little Erik's running around the hallway and annoying me."

"That's it!" Erik snarled. "Good-night, everyone," he said, looking pointedly at Mrs. Williams. Raoul looked at Erik and slipped out.

"In a rush are we? Didn't you already have your wedding night in Vegas?" she teased him.

Christine smiled at the old woman. _If I'd known my grandmother, she would have been just like that. _

Christine heard a low rumble coming from Erik as he walked to the door and opened it without saying a word. "Don't be a fool, Erik. Enjoy your blessing!" were her last words before he closed the door behind her. What a wonderful ally this old woman could turn out to be.

-----------------------------------o

He fixed her room and each went to their own bedroom. Erik had a hard time falling asleep knowing Christine was only a few feet away. He must have fallen asleep when he heard a sharp scream. Erik rushed out of his room, a thin rope coiled in his hand, dressed only in lounging pants.

Christine lay in bed, curled in a ball. He looked around the dark room, no one else was present. All the windows were closed. He sat next to her. "I'm sorry, Erik. I think I had a bad dream."

"You'll be all right." He was still trembling from the surge of adrenaline.

"Please, don't leave me." He felt her hand cling to his arm.

-----------------------------------o

Christine had been appalled when Erik had insisted on giving her the guest room. She lay in bed, and a wicked idea came to her head. Before she had time to lay out her plan, a sharp scream left her throat, piercing the night. Within seconds, Erik had rushed into her room. She apologized for having a nightmare and asked him to stay with her.

She cuddled next to him and heard a low moan escape his lips. She insisted on having him lie down next to her. Lying warm in his arms, she was glad for her small deceit. It was not a true lie because she was afraid—afraid of not having a real marriage to him. This strange man had wriggled his way into her heart and captured it. He wore a mask, and he never talked about it. She knew that whatever lay under the mask must be awful. However, his kindness and generosity more than made up for that. She was Mrs. Erik Bonneville, and she was going to fill every inch of what those shoes required. She was sure he cared for her in some way. Her only worry was that he thought she had married him to be able to stay in America. Later that night, she turned in her sleep, swinging a leg over his and throwing her arm around his waist—effectively, trapping him.

------------------------------------------------oo


	7. Chapter 7

**I'll be Home for Christmas ©**

**by Phantasmarose**

Disclaimer: I lay no claim to any of the original POTO characters such as Erik, and Christine. These belong to Leroux. The settings outside Opera House and all original characters to this story belong to me.

Title for story is taken from the song I'll be Home for Christmas by James Gannon (lyrics) and Walter Kent (music) copyrighted in 1943. It's first recording was by Bing Crosby that same year. Lyrics from the song are used throughout the story.

**A/N:** The beta for this story is **Busanda**. **Thank You,** for the the great job you have done. She is also the beta for my other story "Black Despair."

To all my readers and reviewers: I hope you enjoyed this modern short story. If you find a few minutes, please leave a review. Thank you

I have enjoyed writing this story, and have come to love these characters. Their noisy neighbor is one of my favorites. Although I must tend to my main story now if you would like for me to continue this story after I am done with **Black Despair** let me know in your reviews.

Chapter 7

Epilogue

January 5th

After the first evening of Erik comforting her because of her nightmare, Christine made up her mind that this was how she wanted to sleep every night, at least for now. On the second night, she told him she was afraid her nightmare would return again. As a gentleman, he felt obliged to offer her support by remaining with her through the night. This went on for the next few days. On the eighth day, she said nothing, but all the same he joined her in her bed. She laid her head on his chest, while his arm went around her protectively.

----------------------------------------------------------j

Erik loved their sleeping arrangements. He did not miss his bed, feeling warm and wanted in hers. He was used to being people's nightmare not being the one they went to in order to feel safe.

Just before sleep overtook them, she kissed his lips. Upon awakening, she did the same thing. Every time he left the apartment and returned, she greeted him with a kiss. Erik had never been to the neighborhood stores so often. His heart would begin to hammer in his chest as he walked back home. He ate a lot and bought only a few goods at a time. Although she offered, he always insisted on going himself. As he entered, she looked up, smiled at him as if he mattered, walked to him, and put her arms around his neck. Her lips pressed against his in a soft, warm kiss. So it was on the eve of the Epiphany.

"Oh, Erik, I didn't know where you were."

_Didn't she hear me when I called out I was getting milk? I thought she had answered me._

"I'm sorry; I didn't mean to worry you, Christine."

She continued to press her body to his. He was used to the discomfort her nearness caused him. He was sure she could feel it, and it embarrassed him. She held on, and he felt even more blood rush from his head. More and more he thought that his wish of making their situation into a real marriage was a distinct possibility.

Two days before school finally started again, Erik began formulating a plan to offer Christine a job. If she accepted, they could travel together, and she would be within feet of him all day long. He didn't like leaving her at home. Too many things could happen, too many variables, too many men could come to the door and whisk her away.

--------------------------------------o

The statue he had made of her sat on her dresser. It depicted her as an angel. That made her nervous. She had had a few boyfriends, one or two serious, but most importantly, Christine was not a virgin. _Would he expect me to be?__ It's 2007…but, he is so old-fashioned—a fact that I love about him. When the time comes could I fake it?_ She didn't like it when he said she was an angel; she wasn't and did not want to be one. All she wanted to be was his wife.

He would accept and respond to her kisses but never carried it further. She was afraid to insist, not wanting to appear easy. Her husband excited her—his voice, his manner, his tall lean form. Her own physical needs were pushed back. She needed to make this marriage work. She wrapped his sweater tightly around her.

----------------------------------------------------o

January 6th

They sat reading, his head on her lap. He read to her from _Treasure Island_.

"Erik, why is that is called booty and this is called booty as well?" she asked pointing to her derrière.

He looked at the rounded part of her, and rolled his eyes. He did not like to think of what he could not have.

"Well…I…I." He could think of half a dozen reasons why he would call her fleshy part that, but he could not tell her. He felt warmth spread on his chin and neck. _Surely a man my age should not get embarrassed over such silliness. _"I would not worry about it Christine, English can be an odd language at best."

Erik loved spending time reading with her. He loved doing everything with her! Erik barely recalled his life before Christine_. Non-life would be a more appropriate description. I love our life together._

"Oh."

There was a knock on the door. _Mrs. Williams?_

Erik jumped up and opened the door. Brent stood on his doorstep. He did not look as dapper as he had in the past. Gone was the expensive suit and slicked back hair. He looked like someone on the run. Erik debated whether to just punch him out or just shut the door on his face.

"The woman across from you said Chrissie is living here," Brent's voice was unsure.

Before Erik could decide what to do, Christine was by his side.

"Brent, you're back. I can't believe it," she said hesitantly.

"Yes, well, we need to talk." Brent's eyes did not meet hers.

"Do you mind, Erik?" she asked as she pushed past him and followed Brent.

"Are you sure you want to be alone with him?"

"It's only Brent. I'll be fine."

_I'm not afraid he'll hurt you, I'm afraid he will take you away._ "Of course not, Christine, you are free to…" His throat constricted, and he was unable to continue. He heard the door close behind her. _He calls her Chrissie. How intimate were they? He shook his head, not wanting those thoughts to enter his head. I'm so used to her now. Our life here, it's simple, but…I will never survive this._

He had everything now, and this mangy looking man had just appeared at his door and taken everything away from him. He would make his excuses, and she would forgive him. Within an hour, she will move back with that man, and his own life will be over._ I won't wait for the ax to fall._

He went to his bathroom. _"What did you expect? For her to throw away her life with a man so ugly he must wear a mask?_

He tore his mask off. He covered his naked face with his hands, hot tears ran down an irregular path. _She never saw the horror, and she left you anyway._

He turned away from the mirror and replaced his mask. He looked around the place where he had at last been happy. His mind went over every moment he had shared with her, and he savored them all. This place would now be hell without her. He could never eat at that table without her sitting across from him. The tree mocked him. He had refused to take down her paper figures, although, at her insistence, he had capitulated on the big star and had taken that down. He took the swan, folded it, and placed it in his pocket; it was the first figure she made that night. He wrapped his neck in the scarf, donned the matching hat, and left his home.

Half an hour later, he arrived at Bonneville Academy. He did not enter through the front door but went around the back through the service entrance. He touched the wall, and a trapdoor opened. A few steps down and he was in pitch black. A door to the left led to a small room he had built in during the construction of the school. _This will be an adequate tomb for a corpse. _

Ignoring the furniture, he slid down to sit on the floor.

He had come so close…so close._ Christine!_

--------------------------------------o

Christine walked back into her old apartment. It had only been eight days, but already she did not recognize it. The place was foreign to her new life. Brent looked so strange. It was like having an English sheepdog after having owned a greyhound. _Erik would appreciate the comparison. _

"Chrissie, I've been looking for you since last night. I have your papers. Look, I got you an extension on your visa. I had to pull some rather tight strings for that! But, for you my sweetie…"

"Why did you take so long, Brent? I thought you were not coming back. You left me with no money or food. I thought you had cheated me."

"You…you didn't call the cops, did you, sweetheart? That wouldn't be good for you either. They'd deport you…"

"I'm married, Brent. I'm not going anywhere."

"Married? You mean to that weirdo in there?" He guffawed and pointed his thumb toward Erik's apartment. "Geez, Chrissie, with your looks I could have gotten you a better match. At least he has money, right?" He scratched his shaggy head.

"How dare you, Brent? First, you take my money and come back weeks later, and now you call my husband a …"

"Look, it's not as if you love him. Have you seen under that mask? Is it scary, or is he just a dingbat?" She wondered how she could have ever found him attractive, or trustworthy for that matter.

"Where's my money?" The air in that apartment stifled her. She just wanted her things.

"Oh, yes, well, I don't have it all. I had to grease some palms, you know. But, what's a few hundred to you now? Doesn't this guy own that fancy music school?" He opened his arm to put it around her, but she moved away.

"It's my money, Brent. I want it."

He stretched his hand to caress her cheek, and she pulled back. "You should have waited for me like I asked you to, and then you wouldn't be stuck with that. Look at how shy he's making you."

She shivered to think that he had almost touched her. "Why did it take so long, Brent?"

"There are some people you should watch out for…not everyone is as sweet as you, Chrissie. Here." He handed her two thick envelopes. "We're even then. Right?"

She took the money and papers he offered her and began to walk away.

"Hey, Chrissie! If it scares you when he shows you his face, you can always come back." She saw a big grin on his beard-shadowed face. "He's taken all the fun out of you!"

She closed the door behind her and went home.

--------------------------------------------o

When she returned to the apartment, she discovered Erik wasn't there. She called his cell phone, but there was no answer.

When nightfall came, she was beside herself imagining all sorts of calamities happening to him. She crossed over to their neighbor to ask her for advice.

Mrs. Williams made a thermos of calming tea, and they went back across the hall. She promised to stay with Christine until Erik showed up.

Christine sat wringing her hands. It was so unlike Erik. The truth was she had not known her masked husband for long. She could not swear to his nature. "Could he be with another woman?"

"No…not Erik," Mrs. Williams said calmly as she poured each of them a generous cup of tea.

"Is it truly impossible or just not likely?"

"It is impossible," the old lady replied adamantly.

"I would prefer it to his being hurt," Christine said, looking down at her hands.

"You truly love him." Mrs. Williams smiled. "He deserves that."

By midnight, Christine was frantic. She kept imagining his body lying somewhere, bleeding. Perhaps, he needed her help, and here she was nice and warm, enjoying his home—their home. She looked through his phone book, but her hands trembled so much she could barely read the pages. Mrs. Williams took the phone book from her and found Yasser's and Raoul's telephone numbers. Christine wanted the older man called first; Mrs. Williams agreed.

"Missing? Since when?" Christine heard his muffled yawn. " I'm coming over right now."

She called Raoul next.

"Did you two have a fight?" he asked her.

"No…we never fight."

"Hmm. He's never done this before, right?" Before she could answer, he continued, "Of course not, I'll be right over in case we need to contact the police. You shouldn't be alone."

"Thank you, Raoul." The last time she had seen the blond boy, she had not been very nice.

Christine opened the door before Yasser could knock. He was dressed in a hoodie and pajama bottoms.

"Have you called his school? Well, there wouldn't be anyone there now."

She felt awful. How could she not have thought of calling his place of work. Maybe a pipe had broken, and they told him he had to come right away. _He would have called_. For the seventeenth time, she tried his cell phone and left him a voice message. She dabbed at her eyes and blew her nose. _Erik, where are you?_

"Here is the custodian's number. Let's try that," Yasser told her and took the telephone from her shaking hands.

----------------------------------------o

His neck was killing him as were his ears. He refused to scratch_. I should suffer for being a fool, thinking she could come to care for a thing like me._

_She's forgotten me already. I'll bet she isn't even worried that I am missing. Why would she care when she has a handsome man to cuddle up to_? He removed his mask and allowed the hot tears to run freely over his face. He lay on his coat and curled up against the wall as he had done as a child after a beating. The darkness enveloped him, and he fell asleep.

His eyes fluttered open. _I'm still alive._ He was disappointed not to have been taken in his sleep. The candle had gone out. Although it did not matter anymore, he wondered what the time was. His body ached. Even on his coat, sleeping on a cold, hard floor was rough at his age. Years ago, he would have scoffed at looking for a soft bed, but now he yearned for her soft bed, the warmth of her body, and the comfort of knowing she wanted him there next to her. His ears and neck itched; he gave in and scratched a little.

He wondered what the time was. His watch lay on his dresser at home. At least his cell phone was in his jacket's pocket. Erik noticed the ringer was tuned off. _Good! Let the dead rest_. His eye happened to catch a small symbol in the corner indicating he had voice mail. _Ghosts and dead men do not check voice mail! _ His index finger pressed a button, on its own, only to reveal that nineteen voice messages had been left for him. His heart skipped a beat. All he had to do was press one more button, and he could listen to them. _I won't, what does a condemned man have to do with calls?_ He did not care to hear about the problems in the school. _What if it's her?_ His finger pressed the button. Erik frowned and stared at the willful finger. The phone beeped and connected.

Call one, "Erik…" _She's looking for me to say goodbye. She's a good girl. "_Can you bring back some milk, we're running out." _Does Brent take milk with his coffee?_ That's rather nervy that he should be expected to provide for his enemy's comfort.

Call two, " Erik, can you call me? You never said where you were going." _This is where the ax falls_.

Call three, "Erik, call me immediately, please. I'm getting worried."

_Whatever happened to Brent?_

Each succeeding message made him realize more and more what a monumental error he had made.

Erik's heart soared as he heard her worry, but by the tenth call, it had plummeted. His eyes were wide with fear of his 5-foot 3-inch wife's reaction in spite of him being a foot taller. He knew he had overreacted. _How do I go home? What do I say to her? I threw a tantrum, and I locked myself in the school basement?_ The time! He had forgotten to look at the time. It was four o'clock in the morning.

By the nineteenth call, he could barely understand her. Her voice was shaky, and she begged him to come home. She said some words in Swedish and hung up. _Christine thinks I'm with a woman? I'm in trouble. How do I prove I was here?_

-----------------------------------o

Erik opened the door to the apartment. Too late, he realized that he should have called first. Four pairs of bleary eyes gaped at him as he entered. They all narrowed at the same time. _Not good._

He looked back at one pair of dark gray eyes. Swollen lids surrounded them.

"You are fine!" she said, searching him with her eyes.

"I…I…Christine…let me explain. It's not what you think." He fanned his hands out in front of him.

Her eyes turned ebony.

Yasser winced and shook his head as the words left Erik's mouth. _Perhaps, I should not have said that?_

Erik heard a swoosh as it passed his ear and a loud crack as something smashed against the wall. She ran into her bedroom and slammed the door.

"You messed up big time, buddy," Yasser said, getting up and slipping on his hoodie.

Both men got up, shaking their heads. Raoul put his hand on Erik's shoulder.

"Now you know why I was an only child. Admit to nothing. Lie, lie, lie. Dad never learned that lesson." Raoul followed Yasser out the door.

Mrs. Williams stood as straight as she could and put her hands on her hips. Her furrowed brow gave way to crinkled eyes as she laughed wholeheartedly. "Unless you cook yourself, you are going to be eating crow for a long time. Don't look at me like that. I _know_ you're innocent, so be honest with her and eat your crow!" With a snort she left him standing, looking after her.

_One good squeeze, just one, would relieve so much of my tension right now. _His hands clawed in front of him as if they were going around her neck.

----------------------------------------------------------o

Moments later, he peeked around the door to her room. "Christine? Dear?" His body was on alert in case he needed to jump back.

She sat on her bed dabbing at her eyes. They had dark shadows under them. He was filled with guilt and remorse. Worse, he was filled with fear that she might leave him for his idiocy.

"I have no right to be angry; you married me as a favor. I got my wish tonight, Erik; you are fine."

"I beg for your forgiveness, Christine. I…"

"I was so worried. I'm sorry about your vase. I'll pay for it." Her voice had flattened, as if she were pulling away from him.

His mind filled with Mrs. Williams' wrinkled face. _Be honest and eat your crow_.

"It was not a favor. I married you because I love you."

Her eyes grew wide, disbelief clouded them.

"What did you say?" Her voice trembled.

"I could not stand the thought of you leaving the country without me. Tonight, I was jealous. I thought you had left me for Brent. So, I…I went to the school basement and sat there crying like a fool. I am so sorry."

"You thought I left _you_ for Brent?" she asked, incredulous.

"Yes. I apologize." _I am going to run out of crow!_

"I don't know if I should believe you, Erik. I thought you were…well…" Looking away, she wrung her hands.

"Look." He took a small piece of paper out of his pocket. "I took this with me." He fluffed it up. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her smile in recognition. "I went there to die and wanted to be buried with something of yours."

She took his hands and made him sit next to her on the bed. A small smile still played on her lips.

"Brent was able to get me an extension. No green card, but he returned most of my money. I can pay for a new course! We do not have to stay married!"

He lowered his head, not caring if she saw the tears welling up in his eyes. "Yes, I gathered. I'll sign whatever papers you need to…dissolve what we did. I truly regret causing you any worry," his voice broke toward the end of the sentence. _It's over._

She took his hands in hers "We do not have to stay married, but I very much want to. Do you want to stay married to me?"

"Yes, yes. Oh, God, yes!" He buried his masked face in her skirt. "I am too old and too disfigured to even approach you, but I love you as no one else in the world will."

She kissed the top of his thinning head and admired his long, lean form curled by her feet. _Definitely a greyhound!_

------------------------------------o

Erik made them both tea before they retired. An anguished thought came to him. _She hasn't seen my face! She has no idea of the horror._ He felt her wrap her arms around him from behind.

"Christine…you don't know what's behind the mask I wear."

"And, I don't care. I have a lifetime to discover that and a thousand other things about you." She kissed his cheek.

"Do you know what made me fall in love with you?"

He shook his head. _The answer to the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question._

"I saw how sweet you were to Mrs. Williams. You had her over for Christmas, and there's not a day when you don't go across and talk to her. I know she annoys you, but you do it anyway. Not many men would do that, and I love you for it. You are a special man, Erik Bonneville."

"Christine, I…"

"Just kiss me, Monsieur Bonneville." She lifted her mouth to his, and he claimed it softly. Forgetting their tea, he picked her up in his arms.

"You remind me of that pirate from the book. Are you about to claim your booty?"

"I do believe that that is what I am about to do," he said as he quickened his strides.

She smirked, her head against his shoulder as he carried her into the bedroom.

-------------------------------------------------------oo

I know many issues in the story were left unanswered, but I did not wish to rush the story too much. I will write a few more chapters in order to give the story a more satisfying finale. Dear readers, thank you for joining me. Thank you to my reviewers for taking the time to leave me your thoughts.


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